Pantheon 2.0 - Game Thread
Moderator: Xar
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Benito Alvarez
- Giantfriend
- Posts: 459
- Joined: Sun Sep 17, 2006 11:53 pm
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I'm Murrin
- Are you?
- Posts: 15840
- Joined: Tue Apr 08, 2003 1:09 pm
- Location: North East, UK
- Contact:
Trying to help? When I asked you about this, you said in no uncertain terms that you this person did not interest you, and you did not care what happened!Queeaqueg wrote:Then prove it, Norn. I have not done anything wrong. I signed a Treaty which promotes peace. I am trying to help deal with a man who trying to raise an undead army, when I could have ask him to join me. I have claimed the North-East Landir as my own.
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Mithyaat Vam
- <i>Elohim</i>
- Posts: 153
- Joined: Fri Nov 24, 2006 3:39 am
- Location: Sharp. Distance.
You are right that it is unfortunate my sister. However I do not trust Queeaqueg to remain peaceful. He says that he signed a treaty promoting peace, but if actual fact what the treaty gives him is an ally should he go to war.
I also note Queeaqueg that you waited until you were in a better place strategically to attack one of us before you signed. If it is your intent to make war upon me and my people then so be it. However, do not for a moment believe that I will grant you an easy victory. There are things in this world far more important than cities or land, and I will fight with all that I am to protect them.
I also note Queeaqueg that you waited until you were in a better place strategically to attack one of us before you signed. If it is your intent to make war upon me and my people then so be it. However, do not for a moment believe that I will grant you an easy victory. There are things in this world far more important than cities or land, and I will fight with all that I am to protect them.
Well, you will be waiting for a long time because I am not going to attack you. The reason I did not sign the Treaty was because I assumed that people thought I had signed it. I was the one who made it. I am a man who likes empires and cities. The North-East seemed to have no one around. I thought I would convert the cities(which I thought were empty) and make a nice little land up there.
DEATH IS A PREFERABLE ALTERNATIVE TO COMMUNISM!
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Chisi La'Roo
- Woodhelvennin
- Posts: 65
- Joined: Fri Sep 22, 2006 9:57 pm
- Location: In a tavern somwhere... gambling, probably drinking a good brew.
I hope that I am not interrupting anything too rudely, but I am very excited and would like to announce the opening of The Temple in my city of Myriele! The Temple is a grand casino that is open to all the peoples of our world, and I hope that it is a place of fun and relaxation for everyone who comes to visit.
The Temple will be the first of the great casinos that my people will eventually open in all of my cities. I hope for it to become, not only a center of much prosperity for my people, but an exciting destination for others to look forward to visiting. I will be posting a concept sketch of The Temple in the Pantheon's Art hall shortly.
My singular reason in focusing so much energy into this creation is for our worshipers to have a place to get away from the drudgery of ther lives, and perhaps even to act as a reward to those who have pleased us greatly. Rooms will always be open and on the house to any special guest sent to us.
Any details of the casino will be availible upon request.
(Meh, the game needed something light-hearted, right? )
The Temple will be the first of the great casinos that my people will eventually open in all of my cities. I hope for it to become, not only a center of much prosperity for my people, but an exciting destination for others to look forward to visiting. I will be posting a concept sketch of The Temple in the Pantheon's Art hall shortly.
My singular reason in focusing so much energy into this creation is for our worshipers to have a place to get away from the drudgery of ther lives, and perhaps even to act as a reward to those who have pleased us greatly. Rooms will always be open and on the house to any special guest sent to us.
Any details of the casino will be availible upon request.
(Meh, the game needed something light-hearted, right? )
Who says everything has to happen for a reason? Sometimes things just fall into place. Nothing in your future is set in stone, and your story is what you make of it. Make it good, make it interesting, and Lady Luck will smile upon you.
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Injerian Praetus II
- <i>Haruchai</i>
- Posts: 640
- Joined: Thu May 06, 2004 12:12 pm
- Location: The Koronus Expanse
You made the treaty? I seem to recall I suggested it, drafted it and wrote the final version.Queeaqueg wrote:Well, you will be waiting for a long time because I am not going to attack you. The reason I did not sign the Treaty was because I assumed that people thought I had signed it. I was the one who made it. I am a man who likes empires and cities. The North-East seemed to have no one around. I thought I would convert the cities(which I thought were empty) and make a nice little land up there.
"Oh of course," the Navigator said with faint mocking in his voice, "you have probably heard of House Praetus. We have a palace on Holy Terra. Like all powerful groups, we also have our enemies. Do you honestly think someone like you matters?" - A dissolute noble.
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I'm Murrin
- Are you?
- Posts: 15840
- Joined: Tue Apr 08, 2003 1:09 pm
- Location: North East, UK
- Contact:
[Note: The following events have already taken place.]
As the sun rose over the mountains, Noal climbed to the top of the watchtower to take the first watch. At the top shone the great mirror, turned up to the sky; his duty. He was the first to take this watch, the first to stand on the newly built tower and watch the land around. Should anyone wish to cross the borders of this realm, he would see them.
The watchtower stood high in the mountains, and from its top he could see for many miles. To the east, the foothills descended down until they met the edge of the great forest, a sea of green stretching beyond the horizon. South, the mountains continued, but as his eyes followed them southward they rose to smaller and smaller heights until, in the far distance, they descended below the faint glimmer that was the Solus Sea.
He turned again, and his eyes followed the curve of the mountains north and east, past the forest and over the plains; far past this, beyond the range of his vision and many miles further still, stood his Lord’s great fortress, and the city of Healers, Solimn. This, then was the extent of their realm. The lands ruled by the people of Maeror, that it was his duty to protect.
Finally, Noal turned to the west. In this direction, the view was dominated by the mountains. The tower looked down between two of the peaks, and across to the mountains beyond. The sun was showing more than half its golden disk above the furthest of these; light filled the spaces between the mountains and threw dark shadows behind them.
He watched the passes as the sun rose, until it shone its full light over the mountain and into the valley below, washing away the final piece of shadow. And in that moment, something in the darkness shone, a brightly coloured spark flashing out for a single instant, then fading to the faintest glimmer—but the glimmer remained, lively in the pale sunlight of the mountains.
The sentry shouted down to his companion, Jaen, who stood watch at the base of the tower, and the man soon joined him on the top with a lens. They looked out to where the light shone, and saw there the tip of a great spire, shining as though it were made of coloured glass.
Leaving his companion standing watch, the sentry climbed down the tower and ran into the small room where the other sentries slept. Bunks stood along one wall, enough for four to use at once—three were occupied by sleeping men. The fourth, Sergeant Gan, sat at the table. When Noal ran through the doorway, he looked up from his breakfast.
“Yes?”
The sentry described what they had seen, and his superior followed him back to the tower top. The officer took one look through the lens, then turned to the mirror on the tower. Turning its face to the sun, he flashed a signal toward the north.
“We’ll have to investigate this,” he told the sentries. “Kale and Elam will cover your shift—I want you to come along. Prepare your gear.”
***
The narrow spire was visible in the distance before they rounded the mountain. It stood tall and unnatural against the background of rock, its peak a confectionary of stained glass. As Sergeant Gan and his men rode nearer, more of the structure came into view, smaller spires rising up to stand by the first, all the stone shrouded in carvings.
As the came to the crest, one of the sentries shouted out, and pointed up the hillside above the party. The Sergeant halted to see what he pointed at: high on the slope beside them stood the pilings of stone docks, and, as their eyes rose higher, he heard gasps from his men when they saw the tall wooden spar that stood out from the snow far above.
When finally they crested the rise and looked down into the valley, an entire city greeted them. Across its breadth stood the shattered remains of hundreds of buildings, large and small. Some stood almost intact, while some parts of the ancient city held little more than rubble strewn across the ground. In the centre of all this stood the temple, a monument of beauty among all the destruction.
For a moment Sergeant Gan was as taken aback as the rest of the men, but he took control of himself quickly, and ordered his men forward. He heard one of the soldiers whisper a prayer to Maeror.
Among the rubble, the city was silent, and seemed empty of all life. As they passed, his men looked into the houses that still stood, looking for signs of habitation; but the place held a feeling of long emptiness, and they did not search far before continuing toward the centre.
In the plaza before the temple, the rubble had been cleared. A mound of brick and stone bounded the open space, forming a low obstacle across the street from which they approached. When they crossed, they saw that the line continued along the full arc of the plaza, as if all the debris that fell in the space had been brushed away from the temple steps.
They paused at the edge of this space, and gazed up at the face of the monument. The doorway stood open, a yawning black space that was only highlighted by the surrounding carvings. The walls depicted thousands of small scenes of worship and prayer, of subjects bowing again and again before a single figure that stood, hooded and still, before them. Among the images of supplication were scattered other scenes—men lying on their deathbeds, women in childbirth, people with lost limbs and scarred faces. And each scene appeared with a duplicate, an image that showed the peaceful slumber, the happy child, health and beauty in all forms.
Pulling his gaze from these carvings, Gan looked into the doorway. Shadow lay within, pierced only by thin shafts of light slanting from unseen windows high overhead; he could make out nothing. He ordered Noal and Jaen forward. The sentries lit torches from their packs and ran up the temple steps, but hesitated at the threshold. They held their torches out and tried to pierce the gloom. When they still could make out nothing, Noal took a step closer, and has his foot touched the stone within the temple, something stirred within. A deep rumbling issued from deep within the hall, and a great wind blew out through the open doors. With a shout, the sentries ran back down the steps, then turned to watch. Sergeant Gan’s hand had moved automatically to his sword. As suddenly as the rumbling had began, it stopped; but the sentries did not move closer to the temple. The officer called them back to the edge of the plaza.
“We must inform the Lord-General of all of this.” He waved to indicate the city around them; his eyes remained fixed on the dark entrance to the temple. “We will return to our post and send word. He must see this.”
***
The sun, standing high in the heavens, threw shapes upon the floor of the plaza from the glass tip of the spire. In the streets that lay closest to the temple, a small camp was being erected, and soldiers moved among the tents. Lord-General Admar Tellem Meckros stood outside of the largest of the tents, facing the ancient temple. Between himself and the doors there was only the line of rubble and the empty expanse of the plaza, where the light shifted and played upon the stone.
The men who stood behind him, officials and representatives of the priesthood, were all waiting on his word, but he ignored them, and watched the doorway. In the hour since his arrival, sounds had begun to emerge from somewhere within. He felt that the creature watched him where he stood, studied him as he studied its lair.
Absently, he checked the straps on his armour, and tightened his gauntlets. He had allowed no-one to approach the temple, and the beast had not ventured out. Evidently, someone would have to cross the threshold.
“Passim.” The general heard the priest jump, then hurry forward. The tall man, a member of the Order of Regret, had elected himself to speak for the other priests. Admar did not allow him to begin. “I will enter and confront this creature. When I am done, your Order will be responsible for the rededication of this temple.”
The general strode forward.
“Enter…? Alone?” The priest tottered after the general for a step. “B-but, my lord—”
The prophet let the man’s words fade behind him, and stepped out onto the plaza. As he crossed, the light shone golden on his armour, and for a moment he blazed. Then he passed into the shadow of the temple, and faded into darkness.
The great hall was silent but for the sound of his footfalls as he strode down its centre. Columns lined his path, extending far above to the vaulted ceiling. Most of the room was lost in shadows that deepened the further he ventured in. At the centre of the temple, where some light filtered down from the great spire, he stopped, and waited.
“Who enters my hall?” The voice echoed through the hall, seeming to come from every direction at once.
“I am Lord-General Admar Tellem Meckros, and you lie in the home of my god.” He listened for the faintest movement after he spoke, but could hear nothing; and the booming voice soon covered all other sounds.
“Your god? This house was abandoned long ago, human.” A scratch, somewhere in the darkness ahead of him, gave the location of its source.
“I have come to reclaim it.”
Movement, then; the sound of a great bulk shifting, and a shape emerged at the edge of the light, hanging high above Admar.
“Who are you, general, to make such a claim?”
“I am their prophet,” he answered simply. “Would you oppose me?”
The scaled head lowered, shifting closer to the general, and the beast looked him in the eye. “You have the scent of power about you.” The head tilted. “And some of it is your own.” The head lifted again, and turned to gaze into the shadows. “You serve the Weeping One, then.”
“Weeping One?” the general laughed. “I serve Maeror, the Lord of Death!”
There was a swift motion, and a wide shaft of light pierced the shadows at the end of the hall. It fell upon a figure that stood there—a man, head upraised, tears streaming down his face.
“Your Lord was not so dark, once.” Gazing at the figure, the dragon let out a great breath, a sigh that echoed among the carvings that covered the temple walls. “Very well. You will have your temple.”
“My thanks—”
“I await the god’s return to this hall,” the creature interrupted, “and until that time, I shall remain.” The dragon turned its head to Admar once again, lowering until it was level with his. “I desire to learn more of your new Lord. I fear that in his long exile he has forgotten me. I am Or.”
As the sun rose over the mountains, Noal climbed to the top of the watchtower to take the first watch. At the top shone the great mirror, turned up to the sky; his duty. He was the first to take this watch, the first to stand on the newly built tower and watch the land around. Should anyone wish to cross the borders of this realm, he would see them.
The watchtower stood high in the mountains, and from its top he could see for many miles. To the east, the foothills descended down until they met the edge of the great forest, a sea of green stretching beyond the horizon. South, the mountains continued, but as his eyes followed them southward they rose to smaller and smaller heights until, in the far distance, they descended below the faint glimmer that was the Solus Sea.
He turned again, and his eyes followed the curve of the mountains north and east, past the forest and over the plains; far past this, beyond the range of his vision and many miles further still, stood his Lord’s great fortress, and the city of Healers, Solimn. This, then was the extent of their realm. The lands ruled by the people of Maeror, that it was his duty to protect.
Finally, Noal turned to the west. In this direction, the view was dominated by the mountains. The tower looked down between two of the peaks, and across to the mountains beyond. The sun was showing more than half its golden disk above the furthest of these; light filled the spaces between the mountains and threw dark shadows behind them.
He watched the passes as the sun rose, until it shone its full light over the mountain and into the valley below, washing away the final piece of shadow. And in that moment, something in the darkness shone, a brightly coloured spark flashing out for a single instant, then fading to the faintest glimmer—but the glimmer remained, lively in the pale sunlight of the mountains.
The sentry shouted down to his companion, Jaen, who stood watch at the base of the tower, and the man soon joined him on the top with a lens. They looked out to where the light shone, and saw there the tip of a great spire, shining as though it were made of coloured glass.
Leaving his companion standing watch, the sentry climbed down the tower and ran into the small room where the other sentries slept. Bunks stood along one wall, enough for four to use at once—three were occupied by sleeping men. The fourth, Sergeant Gan, sat at the table. When Noal ran through the doorway, he looked up from his breakfast.
“Yes?”
The sentry described what they had seen, and his superior followed him back to the tower top. The officer took one look through the lens, then turned to the mirror on the tower. Turning its face to the sun, he flashed a signal toward the north.
“We’ll have to investigate this,” he told the sentries. “Kale and Elam will cover your shift—I want you to come along. Prepare your gear.”
***
The narrow spire was visible in the distance before they rounded the mountain. It stood tall and unnatural against the background of rock, its peak a confectionary of stained glass. As Sergeant Gan and his men rode nearer, more of the structure came into view, smaller spires rising up to stand by the first, all the stone shrouded in carvings.
As the came to the crest, one of the sentries shouted out, and pointed up the hillside above the party. The Sergeant halted to see what he pointed at: high on the slope beside them stood the pilings of stone docks, and, as their eyes rose higher, he heard gasps from his men when they saw the tall wooden spar that stood out from the snow far above.
When finally they crested the rise and looked down into the valley, an entire city greeted them. Across its breadth stood the shattered remains of hundreds of buildings, large and small. Some stood almost intact, while some parts of the ancient city held little more than rubble strewn across the ground. In the centre of all this stood the temple, a monument of beauty among all the destruction.
For a moment Sergeant Gan was as taken aback as the rest of the men, but he took control of himself quickly, and ordered his men forward. He heard one of the soldiers whisper a prayer to Maeror.
Among the rubble, the city was silent, and seemed empty of all life. As they passed, his men looked into the houses that still stood, looking for signs of habitation; but the place held a feeling of long emptiness, and they did not search far before continuing toward the centre.
In the plaza before the temple, the rubble had been cleared. A mound of brick and stone bounded the open space, forming a low obstacle across the street from which they approached. When they crossed, they saw that the line continued along the full arc of the plaza, as if all the debris that fell in the space had been brushed away from the temple steps.
They paused at the edge of this space, and gazed up at the face of the monument. The doorway stood open, a yawning black space that was only highlighted by the surrounding carvings. The walls depicted thousands of small scenes of worship and prayer, of subjects bowing again and again before a single figure that stood, hooded and still, before them. Among the images of supplication were scattered other scenes—men lying on their deathbeds, women in childbirth, people with lost limbs and scarred faces. And each scene appeared with a duplicate, an image that showed the peaceful slumber, the happy child, health and beauty in all forms.
Pulling his gaze from these carvings, Gan looked into the doorway. Shadow lay within, pierced only by thin shafts of light slanting from unseen windows high overhead; he could make out nothing. He ordered Noal and Jaen forward. The sentries lit torches from their packs and ran up the temple steps, but hesitated at the threshold. They held their torches out and tried to pierce the gloom. When they still could make out nothing, Noal took a step closer, and has his foot touched the stone within the temple, something stirred within. A deep rumbling issued from deep within the hall, and a great wind blew out through the open doors. With a shout, the sentries ran back down the steps, then turned to watch. Sergeant Gan’s hand had moved automatically to his sword. As suddenly as the rumbling had began, it stopped; but the sentries did not move closer to the temple. The officer called them back to the edge of the plaza.
“We must inform the Lord-General of all of this.” He waved to indicate the city around them; his eyes remained fixed on the dark entrance to the temple. “We will return to our post and send word. He must see this.”
***
The sun, standing high in the heavens, threw shapes upon the floor of the plaza from the glass tip of the spire. In the streets that lay closest to the temple, a small camp was being erected, and soldiers moved among the tents. Lord-General Admar Tellem Meckros stood outside of the largest of the tents, facing the ancient temple. Between himself and the doors there was only the line of rubble and the empty expanse of the plaza, where the light shifted and played upon the stone.
The men who stood behind him, officials and representatives of the priesthood, were all waiting on his word, but he ignored them, and watched the doorway. In the hour since his arrival, sounds had begun to emerge from somewhere within. He felt that the creature watched him where he stood, studied him as he studied its lair.
Absently, he checked the straps on his armour, and tightened his gauntlets. He had allowed no-one to approach the temple, and the beast had not ventured out. Evidently, someone would have to cross the threshold.
“Passim.” The general heard the priest jump, then hurry forward. The tall man, a member of the Order of Regret, had elected himself to speak for the other priests. Admar did not allow him to begin. “I will enter and confront this creature. When I am done, your Order will be responsible for the rededication of this temple.”
The general strode forward.
“Enter…? Alone?” The priest tottered after the general for a step. “B-but, my lord—”
The prophet let the man’s words fade behind him, and stepped out onto the plaza. As he crossed, the light shone golden on his armour, and for a moment he blazed. Then he passed into the shadow of the temple, and faded into darkness.
The great hall was silent but for the sound of his footfalls as he strode down its centre. Columns lined his path, extending far above to the vaulted ceiling. Most of the room was lost in shadows that deepened the further he ventured in. At the centre of the temple, where some light filtered down from the great spire, he stopped, and waited.
“Who enters my hall?” The voice echoed through the hall, seeming to come from every direction at once.
“I am Lord-General Admar Tellem Meckros, and you lie in the home of my god.” He listened for the faintest movement after he spoke, but could hear nothing; and the booming voice soon covered all other sounds.
“Your god? This house was abandoned long ago, human.” A scratch, somewhere in the darkness ahead of him, gave the location of its source.
“I have come to reclaim it.”
Movement, then; the sound of a great bulk shifting, and a shape emerged at the edge of the light, hanging high above Admar.
“Who are you, general, to make such a claim?”
“I am their prophet,” he answered simply. “Would you oppose me?”
The scaled head lowered, shifting closer to the general, and the beast looked him in the eye. “You have the scent of power about you.” The head tilted. “And some of it is your own.” The head lifted again, and turned to gaze into the shadows. “You serve the Weeping One, then.”
“Weeping One?” the general laughed. “I serve Maeror, the Lord of Death!”
There was a swift motion, and a wide shaft of light pierced the shadows at the end of the hall. It fell upon a figure that stood there—a man, head upraised, tears streaming down his face.
“Your Lord was not so dark, once.” Gazing at the figure, the dragon let out a great breath, a sigh that echoed among the carvings that covered the temple walls. “Very well. You will have your temple.”
“My thanks—”
“I await the god’s return to this hall,” the creature interrupted, “and until that time, I shall remain.” The dragon turned its head to Admar once again, lowering until it was level with his. “I desire to learn more of your new Lord. I fear that in his long exile he has forgotten me. I am Or.”
Demonic rift appearing in 3... 2... 1...Chisi La'Roo wrote:My singular reason in focusing so much energy into this creation is for our worshipers to have a place to get away from the drudgery of ther lives, and perhaps even to act as a reward to those who have pleased us greatly. Rooms will always be open and on the house to any special guest sent to us.
Any details of the casino will be availible upon request.
(Meh, the game needed something light-hearted, right? )
"The winds and waves are always on the side of the ablest navigators."
-E. Gibbon
-E. Gibbon
Uh... Greetings, Ghost of Solus. My father spoke of you, not unkindly.
I was wondering if you are, by any chance, seeing the ghost of a rift of your time??? Or are we in fairly deep trouble right about now?
I am the self-fulfilling prophecy. Give love, and you WILL receive love. Let your every answer, your every action and reaction, your every desire, be rooted in love.
Though chaos is always nearer than we would like to think, it looks closer now than it has since the years your father and I ruled. Considering certain patterns reemerging, I would not be surprised to see a rift like that which brought Morgath (in fact, I'd be surprised if anyone looking didn't find the makings of one somewhere). However, I was merely having a bit of fun, in part at Chisi's expense, but mostly my own.
But I've most likely said to much as it is. I should return to the pub before Avatar decides I'm not coming and stops holding my favorite stool.
But I've most likely said to much as it is. I should return to the pub before Avatar decides I'm not coming and stops holding my favorite stool.
"The winds and waves are always on the side of the ablest navigators."
-E. Gibbon
-E. Gibbon
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Injerian Praetus II
- <i>Haruchai</i>
- Posts: 640
- Joined: Thu May 06, 2004 12:12 pm
- Location: The Koronus Expanse
Many thanks. There shall be peace in Khenstorn.Lord Adomorn wrote:If all parites are agreed, then. Now that Quee ha signed, I am prepared to ratify this agreement. Nor, just send the hard copy to Linver. my Prohpet will sign. Otherwise, for divine purposes, it is done.
Oh, and Norn. Going by the treaty, I support Queeaqueg's actions. If you so much as sneeze in Queea's direction I will have to take action.
That city belongs to the God of War.
"Oh of course," the Navigator said with faint mocking in his voice, "you have probably heard of House Praetus. We have a palace on Holy Terra. Like all powerful groups, we also have our enemies. Do you honestly think someone like you matters?" - A dissolute noble.
Indeed, it has already been found.The Ghost of Solus wrote:Considering certain patterns reemerging, I would not be surprised to see a rift like that which brought Morgath (in fact, I'd be surprised if anyone looking didn't find the makings of one somewhere).
Please give "Uncle" Avatar my regards.The Ghost of Solus wrote:I should return to the pub before Avatar decides I'm not coming and stops holding my favorite stool.
I am the self-fulfilling prophecy. Give love, and you WILL receive love. Let your every answer, your every action and reaction, your every desire, be rooted in love.
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Injerian Praetus II
- <i>Haruchai</i>
- Posts: 640
- Joined: Thu May 06, 2004 12:12 pm
- Location: The Koronus Expanse
Who is this, 'Solus'? And this 'Avatar' he speaks of?
"Oh of course," the Navigator said with faint mocking in his voice, "you have probably heard of House Praetus. We have a palace on Holy Terra. Like all powerful groups, we also have our enemies. Do you honestly think someone like you matters?" - A dissolute noble.
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Injerian Praetus II
- <i>Haruchai</i>
- Posts: 640
- Joined: Thu May 06, 2004 12:12 pm
- Location: The Koronus Expanse
It would seem my words and actions have frightened some gods. Therefore, I am willing to sign a treaty prohibiting myself from mutating life in other realms (those belonging to other gods). However, in return for this, I also want the pantheon to sign a pact to not invade my realm or counter my forced mutation policy in Nor Yekith.
"Oh of course," the Navigator said with faint mocking in his voice, "you have probably heard of House Praetus. We have a palace on Holy Terra. Like all powerful groups, we also have our enemies. Do you honestly think someone like you matters?" - A dissolute noble.
-
I'm Murrin
- Are you?
- Posts: 15840
- Joined: Tue Apr 08, 2003 1:09 pm
- Location: North East, UK
- Contact:
-
Mithyaat Vam
- <i>Elohim</i>
- Posts: 153
- Joined: Fri Nov 24, 2006 3:39 am
- Location: Sharp. Distance.